Forever Blue
by NeverWillBe
Summary: Ulquiorra was the hand she failed to hold in that very last moment, while he...the man who lost his voice, was the hand that she did manage to reach at the brink of death. "He had inevitably lost his voice, possibly for good." Mainly GrimmHime.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, people. It feels great starting a brand new fic and once again I'm not sure how long this one would stretch on to be... It was supposed to be a one-shot. But dang, it got too messy and I reconstructed it and now Chapter 2 is already in-progress! =]

I started out by exploring the similarities between Orihime and Rukia. (They both have fruitless first loves, in my opinion. Orihime and Ichigo. Rukia and Kaien.) And the next thing I knew, TADA! I came up with a rather complex philosophical/romantic story which takes place during the Hueco Mundo arc.

As the name of this chapter suggests, everything might seem a bit messy and ambiguous at first. (Heck it even comes with a poem!) Don't worry, I'll make sure the storyline flows in the next chapter and the issues between characters will soon become clear.

Do remember to drop me some reviews.

Ladies and gentlemen, FOREVER BLUE.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: A MESSY START**

She stood frozen, midway along the deserted corridor of Las Noches. Her eyes were dead gray with morbid seriousness, directed at the equally unmoving figure positioned at the end of the corridor. His silhouette contrasted with the artificial sunlight that shone through the window as he stood facing her, a scowled in place, waiting for her voluntary self-explanation.

"I…wasn't escaping or anything, really. I was just touring the building!" she half- exclaimed, a bit panicky. She waved her arms awkwardly in the air for emphasis, earning a smirk in return—he was amused by her antics. He couldn't understand, _why the cheery façade when she was so obviously unhappy?_

"I. Don't. Care," he replied, "It's not possible for you to outrun any of us, anyway. What I wanted to know was…Where's your freak of a guardian? Did he let you out just so you could stare and annoy the hell out of me?"

"No," she managed to smile, "Ulquiorra-sama said he won't be around till tomorrow. And I didn't mean to be rude… you looked, uh, interesting! Standing over there! So… I couldn't help…" her voice trailed away as she noticed that he was deep in thought, paying her little attention.

"Huh. So he's assigned to a bloody mission by Aizen again… Such a selfish prick, never sharing any of it."

"Yeah, I suppose," she responded without interest and looked away. "I should get going, Grimmjow."

He hmmph-ed in reply.

"Nice talking to you," she half-lied.

"And it's Grimmjow-_sama_ to you, trash." His voice echoed once again as she turned away and walked in the opposite direction.

Inoue would come to remember that as their only proper conversation for as long as she lived.

How pathetic.

* * *

**Do conversations really matter, anyway?**

* * *

Rukia dragged her tired self across the squeaky-clean floorboards that seemed to stretch on infinitely along the Kuchiki Manor corridor which she could hardly recognise due to fatigue and the obvious—this place is just too big and all corridors look similar! She inwardly sighed as she recalled her day at work.

…which only consisted of paperwork ever since she was brought back to Sereitei from the human realm after Inoue's mysterious disappearance. _Escorted back by Nii-sama_, she corrected herself in her mind, and blew a loud sigh before she could stop herself.

Paperwork wasn't something she would complain about, but losing her voice due to a random sore throat which led to eardrum-pain-inducing fussing from her two third seats was a huge pain in the ass. And the fact that she couldn't yell at them to make them stop only made the situation chire-senbonzakura-worthy.

_Wait, what was that?_ She berated herself for having thoughts—insignificant thoughts—surrounding her adoptive brother.

_Ah, now without the ability to talk, dinner would be extra awkward with him. Perhaps he would enjoy the complete silence?_

Fifty years under the same roof with the man in question, she never believed that there was a bond between them but having his hands in hers that day on Sokyouku willed her to rethink her stand. She thought it was best that from there on she would remain alive for him as much as he had devoted his life to serve the promise made to Lady Hisana.

Even if that meant doing so without any verbal exchange with Nii-sama.

_Because we are already connected._ She mouthed her thoughts, but no sound came.

Was it laughable that she believed a connection could be established without speech or any form of prerequisites and expectations between two souls?

* * *

"There isn't one between us after all." They had friendship, this she never doubted. But one's desire often outgrew reality. Inoue sat, and sulked on her bleach-white bed, her eyes glued to the hem of her arrancar uniform.

The door did not creak open, rather, it slid effortlessly to the side, allowing soundless footsteps to come through, but she sensed his presence soon enough. She made no move to greet him.

"What is not there? I assume you are reminiscing your time with that human boy," it was the green-eyed Espada.

"Hai," she replied with gut-deep honesty, her seated figure unmoving on the bed.

He counted to three and as expected she opened her mouth again, this time to answer the first question.

"I was… talking about a very abstract form of human connection, Ulquiorra-sama," she began, paying awful lot of care to make everything non-Hollow understandable to her guardian, "something based on mutual respect and care, existing between hearts and…"

"You mean 'love'."

"Oh yes!" she almost squealed at that, but composed herself out of politeness and also out of the despair that she was originally mulling about. "You know, not just the chocolatey and 'let's get married' kind of love, but the plain, earthy and as undetected as a whisper type of love as well." The tone of her further elaboration was as bouncy as ever, nevertheless he saw from the corner of his eyes that she had fisted the bedsheets with her right hand as she spoke. He only nodded in response.

"Connections are always there, even when you don't know it. They are unbreakable… as long as you allow yourself to feel it," she continued. The exact moment she completed her sentence he minutely crinkled his nose at the scent of salt water. She had started crying. Her back hunched visibly and she covered her face with the sweep of fringe that had fallen out of place as her body wrecked with sobs.

"There should be no grief for a human man who does not allow himself to feel this 'connection' of yours that is supposedly so essential for the survival of your kind," he replied suddenly and watched as she raised her head, tears fresh and sobs raspy, to stare at him in wonder. He almost flinched under her gaze.

"One must not reduce itself to a pathetic existence just because an effort is rejected. If he does not want to connect with you, so be it. Furthermore, matters of…the 'heart' are of no significance. I do not understand your despair. Get over yourself, onna." Emerald eyes closed in a feeble attempt to shut off the overflow of emotions from the human who was mercilessly throwing foreign concepts at him. He would not allow himself to relate, much less succumb to the way humans. What he told her was a mere automatic response, carrying meaning which he himself did not understand.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the weeping girl, in the middle of her little meltdown, had silently told herself, _I'm glad you allowed yourself to feel, Ulquiorra._

Unbeknownst to him, he was beginning a healing that even the magical girl before him could never do by herself—nothing could reverse the hurt of a broken connection like a blossoming one could.

* * *

**What exactly do humans need to be whole?**

* * *

"I don't know if this universe has 'forever' flowing in it… Everything seems to fade away at some point… but I… I think 'forevers' can be artificial. We make them," she said.

She had found herself once again seated on her bed while her guardian stared down at her with an expression which she interpreted as confusion. She didn't care to ask why he had begun such an unusual discussion with her, and allowed herself to appreciate his randomness as one would gleefully accept sheer good luck. He had enquired why human beings desire constancy or eternity.

"All turns to ashes in the end. Artificial or not, forever is only heresy."

"'Forever' exists in the heart. The body decays to nothingness but the soul will always remember what the heart has gained. It isn't pointless," her voice was even in seriousness and conviction and she braved herself for his retort. But it never came.

"I don't understand," he stated plainly, his tone mildly deflated—or was it just her imagination? He turned away from her, ready to leave her cell.

And she too, turned silent.

He placed a pale hand on the door and it moved immediately under his command.

"Ulquiorra, wait!" her little voice echoed in the white room and he halted the movement of the door. "I was trying to say that matters of the heart can be immortal because of the connections made between souls… The connections are unconditional and unbreakable as long as…"

"…one allows himself to feel it," he finished for her, his pools of emerald shining a tint of black in a show of impatience.

"Right! So… I know it sounds impossible, because logically nothing is 'unconditional' or without price. But that's precisely the point! Being impossible! When an impossible connection is made, nothing, not even death, can break it…" her voice drifted away as she felt his intense gaze on her. She knew she just made a fool of herself, and it was apparent that she wasn't even sure about what she was talking about.

"You want… proof?" She probed when he didn't move nor speak, his palm still resting on the flat plane of the door.

"I doubt that you could provide any."

She beamed at him. "The fact that you are here, talking to me, is my proof. You came in here, not out of curiosity and definitely not out of duty. You don't desire answers—you are here so that I can prove you wrong. Our connection," she laughed lightly, almost sounding ridiculed by herself, "tells me that you have been thinking about all these…" she waved her arms absentmindedly, "even before I got here. You have answers of your own but you can't fully accept them. Because, just because, you don't like them."

He narrowed his eyes.

"We have a connection," she concluded with a smile, "as impossible as it seems."

"You talk too much, woman." In his mind though, he didn't even want to rebut her courageous assumptions about his inner workings. He preoccupied himself with new questions, afraid that dwelling on her lengthy explanation will lead him to his own undoing. He no longer wanted to know if she was right in her human trashy ways.

So now as Ulquiorra strode past rows and rows of colourless hallways, he asked himself, "Will our connection last forever then?"

Past deaths and the rebirth of the undead, his memories of his old lives and of those he devoured on the road to abomination had been eaten away by raw power and the reluctance to remember. He lived without a single hope for permanence. But now…

He knew he hoped that Inoue Orihime would remember for his sake. And just maybe, that connection will live on with her. "How pathetic," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

Nii-sama finally came home. He had spared her a glance before walking away as wordlessly as usual. He didn't seem to mind her reluctance to verbally bid him goodnight when she bowed in respect, the only movement she could afford at the moment.

Straightening herself, Rukia watched his retreating figure and felt a sudden rush of panic in her chest—_don't go_. And she mentally slapped herself for naively believing that silence was a healthy way to stay connected. _Nii-sama_. She gripped the hilt of her zanpakutou and remained rooted at the entrance of the dining hall.

Dinner was of course disastrous. In Rukia's terms, at least. There was absolutely no exchange of words. That, Rukia had expected.

But she had hoped that he would question her silence. A flat comment would have positively fixed her spirits.

She wanted to see his concern.

_It's not a lie. Nii-sama. We are related in many ways, even though not by blood. Our connection… it's not a lie._

* * *

**Self salvation sometimes required the cruelest solution—self-deception.**

* * *

She knew. Inoue Orihime knew that he would be less grateful than the cat she rescued from a tree in Karakura Town. The darn cat managed to scratch her cheek then, meowing merrily before sprinting away to god-knows-where.

It was their second meeting. And this one was filled with more anxiety and fear.

Anxiety because she had always felt… connected to people she healed. It was a peculiar and indescribable feeling. Purely irrational and flimsy compared to thoughts based on friendship and love. This is physical, something created through her sort-of magical abilities applied on flesh and blood; yet it was also somehow spiritual.

She was anxious. She did not particularly want to bond with this… man. Nor did she want to deny him his arm. The irony is, however, she already had some kind of connection to him. She couldn't say she liked him or befriended him, but she knew from the bottom of her soul that she did not wish to see him die, did not want him to participate in the war, did not want him to fight the man she supposedly loved.

Grimmjow Jaegurjaques was officially on Inoue Orihime's to-be-protected list.

And when she utter ed "I reject" and reconstructed his lost arm, she knew there was no turning back. She feared for herself: _How would I feel if he got hurt again?_ Fearing for him, rather it be his physical or his emotional state, would of course come in the package deal. She concluded that she could not and would not distant herself from this man anymore—he now deserved her attention, her care and possibly her honesty and genuine feelings… even when he wanted nothing to do with her.

Like the so-called 'connection', her conclusion was so highly irrational. She was fine with that, nevertheless. _It isn't self-deception_, she insisted furiously in her mind.

* * *

How rare an occasion,

To look out of my tiny window and see the clouds

White and unmoving;

As though all wind had died

And never again to brush my blue blue sky?

The clock continues its ticking,

But for this strange little moment

When all else remain frozen,

I suddenly believe in forever,

Just as much

As I loved that laugh you had

When you pointed at the twinkles above

That awkward windless night.

Oh for you who'd gone away,

I sit and stare much like that cloud over there,

Stubborn and stagnant!

To be your dash of white,

Though you are only forever blue

Up on the sky I built in my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm finally back in action! Here's Chapter 2 which is long overdue. Sorry for keeping you waiting. This fiction takes quite a lot of my philosophical brain to come up with, so forgive me. Compared to my other stories, this one seems to be getting the cold shoulder eh? I actually considered taking out the Kuchiki Siblings for the entire story line, but that just wouldn't work, I realised. It would destroy the flow I've created in Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 wouldn't make enough sense.

I do hope you'll review, even if you don't like this fic much... I'm losing the motivation to go on, though it's at the same time difficult to abandon this brainchild of mine.

The GrimmHime scenes will be coming up in the next chapter, for now I still have some explanatory narration to give you!

Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER 2: AWAKE**

She turned. Sleep was somewhat robbed away from her, probably one or two hours earlier than usual, and she huffed in annoyance. _Too early._ Just another day, her routine never changes unless there was a mega emergency situation in Seireitei. For once she rather stayed hidden in the Kuchiki residence instead of reporting for duty in the barracks. Why, already cursed with a voice box which would not function—speaking of which, the subtle sting could be felt even when she wasn't attempting to make a sound—she was now roused from sleep for no apparent…

"Nn!" she managed a retarded greeting. _His reiatsu must have been the reason!_

"You're awake, Rukia," his tone, nonchalant and aristocratic as ever as he remained kneeling at her bed side.

She could only stare. He had the habit of suppressing his reiatsu to the minimum when at home, but obviously he opted to release a considerable amount, _could it be_, to wake her?

She sat up in lightning speed after a second or two of gaping, and nodded.

"You are troubled." _What is this, a counseling session?_

She wondered if he was referring to some kind of spiritual unrest that was beyond her comprehension. Maybe he was talking about the fact that she was baffled by his sudden intrusion two hours prior to her normal waking time. _Oh, whatever, just nod!_

"Rukia," he questioned as she raised her head and looked at him with a face he could only identify as bewilderment. "Your reiatsu fluctuations last night was overwhelmingly disturbing. Did you not sleep well?"

_It was? I did? Why… what? How! When… huh?_

A deadpan stare, a peaceful face… This man… _Nii-sama will always be Nii-sama._

She shook her head. "You would not speak to me, is that it?"

She nodded. And then frantically shook her head again. She weakly pointed to her throat after consideration.

But Nii-sama was already standing up, his eyes downcast as not to spare her another glance, turning around he said, "I have a Captains' meeting to attend. Get well, Rukia."

The door slid shut.

And she did not know what to make of that. Did he understand? Or was he still talking about her reiatsu fluctuations which she still had no idea about? She frowned and flopped onto the bed.

Sleep? She no longer wanted to.

* * *

Las Noches.

The girl lay in bed but her eyes refuse to flutter shut the way the normally would. It was already dark. The fake sky above them was twinkling with stars and the lonesome moon, she could see it from the corner of her eye, had not moved.

Sleep.

She didn't want to.

But she quickly forced her eyes shut when she heard the soft thuds of boots nearing, and when they stopped outside her door she hoped no one had noticed the breath she sucked in out of anticipation.

Yet, once again, he did not enter.

His visits had become scarce. She concluded that he must have been busy. He probably ran out of questions, too. There was only so little about humans that interested him.

When the footsteps left, she wondered if he was being deliberately loud for her to know that he was there. She was pretty sure that he could glide across space if he so desired. Wasn't he always stealthy? Wasn't he used to lowering his reiatsu? Why the sudden change?

No reason to be awake now.

Sleep.

And she complied.

* * *

It was so out of control. He managed to develop a habit of walking to her room entrance in the dead of night, fully aware that she would notice especially since his spiritual pressure was much more rampant than its usual state when he was not in battle. It all started that one night…

He had stayed over, against logic and restraints that common sense had imposed on Arrancars. He stayed by her side when she talked herself to sleep. Her human hands, one fisted under the sheets and d other loosely on the hem of his sleeve. She wouldn't have noticed if he left there and then. But he didn't.

Because it was strangely comfortable to sit on the bed, doing nothing productive, staring at her sleeping face instead.

He did not understand why, but her reiatsu was out of beat for a few seconds. A dream?

Dreaming, a privilege given to humans.

A pale hand touched a frowning face.

The face, still asleep, twitched under the hand's care, till it finally relaxed and returned to smooth slumber.

The pale hand left, but the other face had bent forward.

Ulquiorra had kissed Orihime. On the forehead, then on the corner of her lips. He did not understand why, but her reiatsu was out of beat for a few seconds.

"You gave me a reason to end my life," he whispered as she cracked her eyes open just as he expected.

"'**Forever' exists in the heart. The body decays to nothingness but the soul will always remember what the heart has gained. It isn't pointless."**

She had said that.

She smiled, though she did not understand, hazy from sleep and confused by both bliss and the seriousness his words carried.

**He knew he hoped that Inoue Orihime would remember for his sake. And just maybe, that connection will live on with her.**

"I never fear death, woman, but I never did accept it. Yet now, it's alright to die."

"Ul…quiorra?"

He leaned in once again. Dark lips devoured the inexperienced mouth below. He could hear her heart. He could hear it.

She tugged him forward and he landed on her, gently enough not to crush her with his stone skin. He closed his eyes, an attempt to feign sleep, as idiotic as the idea was—Inoue Orihime was the only who sleeps in this heartless building. He moved to let her curl up on his side, and he thought that was one of the things Kurosaki Ichigo failed to provide her.

The morning after he left with the determination of never returning, but duty specifically demanded that he had to. So he opted to visit without entering, yet deliberately alerting her each time, perhaps a form of consolation he could offer, for once.

He did not expect to make it a habit, yet it happened, and he wasn't sure that he wasn't happy with that.

* * *

"May I enter, Nii-sama?" She was kneeling at the door to his study, her voice tiny, and she swore that he was being deliberately slow in granting her permission. He was never one to wait for her to go through such tedious formalities when he was busy, often telling her to enter before she could even say anything. His life was after all, about efficiency.

"So your voice has returned," came the reply after an awkward stretch of silence. "Come in."

"**Get well, Rukia."**

He knew. He knew all along. She fidgeted, but determined to give her thanks for his concern, "Nii…"

"You can go. Abarai's odd behaviour at office gave it away, and that awkward display by your face and reiatsu in the morning," he said calmly.

_What?_

Her reaction must have been comical because he had paused his writing, a gentle expression settling upon his alabaster face.

Yet there was a heaviness in his eyes, the same heaviness which, perhaps had hindered his quick permission for her to see him this particular night. So he knew about _that_ too. She flushed, embarrassed at being outwitted by her adoptive brother, and at the same time anxious under such… care and patience which were extremely alien coming from someone like Kuchiki Byakuya.

"I can go?" she asked, just to be sure.

"This would be the first time I trust Renji to handle an off-duty mission, also, the first time to take my place where I should be, but cannot be." He had resumed writing, the grave eyes cleverly averted her violet orbs, his voice smooth but not so even.

"What about the Gotei… They wouldn't allow…" she gulped, knowing that she was asking him to be a criminal alongside her.

"Of course, you will not be using the Gotei's Senkai Gate. We have our own here in the manor. Isn't that why you are here?" He stated the obvious.

"You're allowing me to do this? To disobey rules and Nii-sama, your promise to…"

"You do not have to question my decisions. Have faith and go." A lot could be overlooked at the expense of war, he was sure no ill consequences would find them. She was the pride and he was the upholder, simple.

She remained silent, kneeling still in front of his desk. "It is late, Nii-sama. You should retire soon and be well-rested for tomorrow's duties," she finally managed to say, something she always said, but this time she knew it came out too sorrowful for anybody to miss her insecurities and her reluctance to leave.

"You will take off tonight as you have planned," he said as he stood and walked over to a cupboard. He opened a drawer, the wood immediately creaking. The sound was much alarming to Rukia as she marveled at his movements, graceful and full of purpose despite the ancient furniture which protested at being violated. "Stand up, Rukia."

She did as she was told, looking out of place being upright on his floorboards which were mostly void of décor or furniture to remind her of home. But vast, empty spaces and Nii-same always went together. Being out of place, robbed of comfort, or deserted always brought her thoughts to him. More often than not he would show up and make the driest of situations seem acceptable and meant-to-be. And now, in his space, she felt the same way and the weight of leaving and going to another empty space where he was not in… The idea almost made her cry.

He had walked over to her, holding whatever he had brought out of the drawer.

"If you were to fall ill again, I doubt my lieutenant could be of any help in Hueco Mundo."

She looked up to meet his gaze, puzzled, but still preoccupied with her morbid thoughts. But that was all in a short second, for he handed her a neatly folded cloak, a brown and sturdy material but of good needle work. It was new. And judging from the layers it formed as it lay folded in her hands, it was big enough to drown her in. She did not understand.

She did when she saw that he was holding another cloak which he swiftly unfolded, a flap of wind sounded at her ears as he whirled it around her and the comfortable protective clothing settled on her shoulders and fell to her ankles. She laid her eyes on a particularly interesting pattern on his emerald blue kimono and said nothing as he fastened the collar.

A moment of uncertain silence descended. He looked at her, probably satisfied with what he had done while she clenched her fist under the fabric.

"Thank you, Nii-sama."

He offered nothing in return but a slight inclination of the head to signify that he had heard her. He went back to his desk and sat with his writing brush in hand.

"Please sleep well tonight," she said. She was about to bid him goodbye, but it just wouldn't roll off her tongue right. He was back to his air of ignorance and ultimate concentration in work, so she backed away till the hand behind her back could touch the doors and paused to look once more at him. She thought about the nights she could feel his faint pressure out at the gardens—those somewhat depressing moonlit walks he supposedly enjoyed. She had concluded that he must have been searching for ways to sleep better in those nights. _Please sleep well tonight? _It was not a suggestion, but a wish she truly wanted him to fulfill.

She almost cracked a bitter smile, wondering if he would worry about her during his night walk later.

* * *

He didn't wished to be consoled

Pain was something deliberate

To feel awake

Though a part of the dead

To love was to know

Sleep would come late

Hush now and go ahead

* * *

He spoke to her, his words hollow without care or patience—something she was spoiled with under Ulquiorra's wings. It was nothing like the exchange she had with this blue-haired man the day she wandered away from her usual cell without the bat's supervision. Grimmjow was rough and limitlessly violent in every way, and she cringed in pain as he sonido-ed without care of the discomfort she was experiencing being hurled with her stomach resting on the bone of his shoulder…while being enveloped by some kind of kidnap bag. It was very unpleasant.

Yes , she was being kidnapped from her kidnappers by the colleague of her kidnappers.

Marvellous scenario.

He came to her rescue by blasting the female bullies to hell. He sneered and growled and even roared at her idiocy when she healed up the two, but let her have her way nevertheless. Perhaps he was purely irked, but do not care enough to change her mind. Though, oddly, he demanded that she healed up her own face, muttering, "I don't want the bloody shinigami to think that I ain't fighting fair."

She couldn't help but wonder anyway, _did he feel it too? The connection?_

As he sped up she began to choke without air. Her eyes watered. _Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra Schiffer._

Fear for her guardian's safety sank in as she considered the possibility that he was in battle with one of her friends. Her friends. She was, honestly, disgusted by her emotional betrayal.

And that fear was quickly replaced by another as Grimmjow came to a halt, and she felt a presence much more familiar than everyone else's within her reiatsu-detection zone.

Kurosaki-kun.

It was going to happen. Someone was going to die. The two men before her and the one who would soon interfere. One? Two, or all of them? "There will be blood," she heard herself whisper.

* * *

Amidst the clashing of swords where the two monsters flew at each other under the pretty blue sky, she heard _his_ voice.

"Do you not despise me for bringing you here?" He had once asked her that. And now the question rang clearer than ever.

She had given him a firm shake of head as a reply, he was contemplative as he threw her a glance which she interpreted as suspicion. Once having her food swallowed she added, "Really, not at all. I agreed to come, didn't I?"

"Human trash," he had retorted with venom, but the harm was not meant to reach her. He was the one who was poisoned.

"Mm-hmm," she had then responded with a smile.

Another loud clang. Was it a Getsuga? Was it the Panthera? She felt herself crumble.

She recalled how differently he had interacted with her after the shinigami infiltrated the palace.

She was never afraid of him. Hadn't he known? He had pointed a dangerous finger to her heart, seemingly entranced and pained at the same time. The connection seemed broken that split second, she knew he was reverting back to the old Ulquiorra who did not know her. He was preparing to kill the man she adored for most of her teenage years.

"No, I'm not afraid," she had replied his question with absolution. She knew too well that her answer would more or less bring him back. She would bring the man who kissed her that night back to existence. His gaze was unwavering, a cloud of confusion was visible, he almost said something in return, but…

Kurosaki-kun came for her.

And now watching the fighting figures, flashes of blue, white, orange and black, she was scared beyond wits. "I'm not afraid," she said again to herself. _Afraid of Ulquiorra, I won't ever be. _She could feel the connection again, her heart beating.

* * *

"I want power. I want to fight. Endlessly and tirelessly! This is what people without 'forevers' must do. There is nothing for us in death, so we fight till the very end… Argh!" Grimmjow's growl ripped through the air.

More clashing, more blood and more pounding.

Two monsters. Her heart ached for them. She was confused. She didn't like what she was seeing.

Grimmjow's words struck a heartstring, she heard the voice again.

"**You gave me a reason to end my life."**

* * *

Pale hands, ash and her frowning face. Ulquiorra is dead. She gave him no tears, and she was disappointed with that.

"I'm not afraid," she had said to him again.

She couldn't hold him. All too soon his body wasted away.

She left the miserable rooftop, instinctively heading to the faint life she felt tingling in her heart and spiritual power. The Sexta Espada. He was still breathing. She hurried her footsteps, thinking that _that hand, the one I returned to him, I haven't held it yet._

* * *

He didn't wished to be consoled

Pain was deliberate

To feel awake though already dead

Hush now and go ahead

To love was to know

Sleep would come late

So he didn't hope

Didn't want to be saved

Give him the silence then

He will understand

If your hands stretch to meet him

He wouldn't be there

Say no words

But bid him well by staying away

A human heart like yours

He understands

"**I never fear death, woman, but I never did accept it. Yet now, it's alright to die."**

* * *

"He had inevitably lost his voice, possibly for good, due to a ghastly wound to his throat," Urahara told them as Ichigo laid unconscious on the bed. "He was lucky to have Orihime-chan retain his Arrancar form, else he would have been reduced to a normal hollow by now."

"He's still dangerous, isn't he?" Chad asked.

"Yes, I suspect he could still summon his katana if he put his mind to it," Urahara replied, "but, I've put a total amount of four kido spells which seal his ability to go to his resurrection form, permanently. I've also injected him with a serum which prevents any sort of activation of reiatsu for now. He's…you could say, temporarily human, except that he wouldn't need to eat. I will have to inject him every two weeks."

"Inoue-san…" Ishida Uryuu wiped the dust off his glasses as he spoke, "she really outdid herself huh?"

"Hmmph, I heard the girl have offered to perform a more thorough job of healing him to restore his voice but…" The black cat sauntered in and propped herself next to the sleeping orange head. "The panther refused with everything he still has…claws and punches, you get the idea. Anyway, how's the boy here?"

"Sleeping soundly, don't you see?" Urahara smiled.

"You've told them about his powers?"

"Yep, I believe the whole of Soul Society too had heard, Yoruichi-san."

Chad and Uryuu shared a solemn silence as the older two spoke. _Inoue-san, what have you done?  
_

"**Kurosaki-kun, please sleep well. We'll be here waiting when you wake up, alright?"**

She certainly said that. But Uryuu found it ironic that she left immediately to nurse the wretched panther whom she, insisted quite fiercely, was to remain in her apartment for the time being. Uryuu didn't even want to imagine what an uproar it must have been in Sereitei.

"Kurosaki… Just wake up already," the Quincy muttered under his breath.

* * *

PLEASE REVIEW. THANK YOU FOR THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY DONE SO, AND EVEN ADDED THIS FIC TO THEIR FAVOURITES. I WAS CLOSE TO GIVING UP THIS ONE BUT YOUR SUPPORT PULLED ME THROUGH =] HOPE TO HEAR FROM MORE OF YOU SOON!

PS: All poems in this fiction are original. The one in the last chapter is simply named **Forever Blue **(after the title of this fic) while this one, for Byakuya and Ulquiorra, is called **Sleep Would Come Late**. Do tell me if you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

First of all, I'm terribly sorry for the late update. I was very irresponsible for leaving you guys (especially the ones who reviewed) hanging without even announcing that this fic was on hiatus. It's been months and this chapter only took about three weeks. I was busy with assignments and exams in university but that excuse alone is only an excuse. And the fact that Grimmjow is a supposedly dead character in the series dampened my writing spirit a lot, so I procrasitnated.

Thank you, if you're still reading. And many thanks for the reviews.

Another matter I wish to highlight now is that because this style of writing, that is, being sorta philosophical and also taking on a parallel story lines (ie. Rukia's story and Orihime's story) was new to me when I first started Forever Blue. If it confused you, please let me know in reviews or PM me. I will try my best to edit or at least provide explanations.

Here's my overdue chapter and yes, GrimmHime will progress now onwards.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: PLAYING NURSE**

He had been snarling at her for the past five minutes. She stood at the door of his brand new and totally unappreciated room, looking at him helplessly with a forced smile—maybe she shouldn't enter or attempt any conversation with the mute panther after all. At that thought Orihime smacked her forehead. _Conversation? He can't talk!_

Grimmjow had woken up, bewildered by his new environment and yet at the same time knew exactly where he was because, 1. This place smelled like the human trash. 2. Said trash left another trash, which was a sticky note, by his futon, saying that she hoped he felt better and that he had to stay with her or risk dying out there. _Really, bitch, really?_

And before he could do anything else to vent his fury she had returned home and stood before him. _The nerve of her! _Snarling was the closest he could get to yelling. He could get physical and intimidate her, but he doubted his chances. She had magical hairpins. He had, well, limbs and teeth.

"If you're upset about your powers being sealed away, I'm sorry," she spoke.

His throaty noise paused as he considered her words. He huffed, not in defeat but in annoyance and glanced sideways. He grunted, and she wasn't sure if that was his accepting her apology or some sort of dismissal.

_Or his way of saying thank you for all that I've done._

Timely, as though reading her incredulous assumption he turned sharply to stare, a low snarl building up from within his chest.

"No, no, I was just thinking if you're hungry. If… you could tolerate human food." She waved her hands in front of her, eyes darting about. In short: obviously lying. It reminded him of that time he caught her strolling the corridors of Las Noches without Ulquiorra's permission. Without Ulquiorra.

_Ulquiorra._ The name would send a bitter taste straight to his heart, if he had one. He ran a hand through his blue mane, determined to remove non-existent remnants of hollow reiatsu the bat had left when it had blasted a cero at him. Grimmjow almost grinned at that thought. It was shameful, to think that he was somewhat accustomed to losing to the Fourth Espada, but at the same time rewarding, because now he was the last man standing.

He soon realised that during his nostalgic train of thought and hair-combing he had given the woman a blank look and she was still standing there at the door. The strange thing was that she didn't look dumbfounded, not even lost in the awkward situation. Rather, she was just standing there, frowning, staring ahead, looking at him but not really seeing him there.

Finally catching Grimmjow's intent eyes on her, she half-squealed—a sound that wasn't new to the occupant of the room—and busied herself by smoothing the plates of her skirt. "Ah, I, I will cook enough for two anyway! I can make breakfast and then maybe lunch for tomorrow with the leftovers, so don't worry about wasting food. Hmm, yeah." With that she closed the door behind her, all the while smiling in a way that he found most unattractive.

Sighing, the panther lay back onto the futon and listened to retreating footsteps with his eyes closed.

"You miss that bastard?" He would have said, if he could. He figured that, like him, her thoughts had drifted to a morbid place and the man who was strongly associated with that adjective. _Humans are such morons._

And if he weren't Grimmjow he would admit that it was a pity that the bat died just like that. Most hollows didn't deserve a second glance, regardless dead or alive. And even though Ulquiorra, like most hollows, died in battle… Most hollows weren't reduced to dust and become nothing… Right in front of a woman they could have loved.

Smelling human food from outside the door, Grimmjow snapped out of the musings over his supposed comrade's death. _What is she making? This smell is… abnormal._

Deciding to take another cat nap he shut down his sense of smell and hearing, for once believing that he wouldn't die as long as under the care of Inoue Orihime and succumbed to sleep, but not before one last thought,

_Ulquiorra, you're a fuckin' bastard._

* * *

"I don't suppose the nursemaids have been killed during my absence in the house?"

"No, Nii-sama." She diligently worked on the next thin line marring the skin of his upper arm, swiping the area with reiatsu-infused alcohol wipes. The line quickly faded to an unnoticeable paleness but her hand shook in fear that she had caused his discomfort. Nii-sama was in a bad mood, everyone could tell. He was often sarcastic, but rarely when with her. _And his sarcasm shouldn't involve any dying nursemaids_, Rukia noted.

It was perhaps three minutes later when she realised she had left him an unsatisfying answer. "I mean, I told them not to come. I thought, you would prefer not seeing anyone you're not familiar with… since you didn't stop by the Fourth Division upon return."

"I did not go to the Fourth because I need not," Byakuya flatly commented, his face blank and his eyes set upon the box of emergency kit his adopted sister had brought along.

"I'm sorry to have intruded."

"I do not mind," he replied with a subtle frown.

The room became silent once again. Sealing a particularly large gash, Rukia pushed the possibility of her brother's reply being a lie aside, and remained kneeling by him, the wounded Kuchiki Byakuya. To be exact, a wounded Kuchiki Byakuya who was free of his kenseikan and captain haori but still poised with dignity and a warrior's pride as he sat leisurely in his own quarters, taming the reiatsu within him. The Winter War was hard on every shinigami, both the grieving and the recovering; yet all captains of the Gotei were expected to be unmoving as the pillars salvation. This task, of course, was not a problem for a Kuchiki.

_Time to tend to the sword wound on his back_. She placed her hand on his shoulder and was about to ask for his permission to continue.

"The rest of the wounds will heal. Leave those to my own reiatsu to deal with. You should return to Unohana." An injection of reiatsu would do her good.

"I want to continue. Let me."

He glanced at her, a fearsome glint in his grey eyes.

"Nii…"

"You are my sister. You should never feel indebted to me. An enemy of that standard is not worthy enough for you to defy me now."

_So he thinks I'm tending to him because I feel… indebted?_ That was, of course, true to a certain extent. And before she could stop herself she had raised her voice. "If I had been stronger I would have killed Yammi and you wouldn't be…!"

"Rukia." He shot her another stern look, daring her to argue further.

"I… Even so, as your sister, I would like to see you healed and patched up and maybe… see you spend less time meditating and more time, I don't know, walking in the gardens? Calligraphy? Blood looks exceptionally glaring on your skin and I feel uneasy about this. Perhaps this is how everyone else feels after the war but that doesn't mean I should just go to bed or let my worries eat my mind away as I wait at the Fourth division ward! And earlier you were being meaner than usual which means you are under stress..." A gasp. "Nii-sama, I, I didn't mean to! No, I do mean what I just said but I apologise for speaking out of place."

"Apology accepted. And I see that I should explain myself. My foul mood was, perhaps, a result of... disagreements with Zaraki."

A terribly long silence followed. She fidgeted.

"Do as you wish," the tension on his face fell and for a split second, there was a ghost of a smile.

* * *

"Grimmjow-san, do you want to try some?" She asked from the dining table, as usual.

He didn't move an inch nor give her as much as grunt, his back facing her as he stood at the balcony. She knew what he was doing. For the past few days the fallen panther's only past-time was to watch lowly hollows glide across the skies or roam remote places of human land. Occasionally he would be able to spot the local shinigami taking them out. The vantage point he was currently at wasn't the best as taller buildings blocked most of the view, and… Afro-san was a boring character, so Orihime wondered how on earth was he satisfied just watching like that?

She didn't know, however, that TV annoyed him so he opted this form of entertainment, and that he did try her food once when she was sound asleep in the wee hours, and decided that it was not good for his recovery nor his overall health.

He heard her finish her own dinner as clangs of the cutlery and plates sounded when she put them into the sink. "After washing up I'll do my homework. You'll be fine on your own?"

Once again, no reaction.

"By the way, tomorrow! It's your appointment with Urahara-san. You'll get your 'proper food'!" She told him cheerfully and he finally turned to look at her, a brow raised.

_Reiatsu injections aren't proper food, woman._

She smiled at his reaction, "I'm not sure what you're trying to say. But you're not snarling, so that's good." In a quieter voice, she continued, "You know, I could fix it but you didn't let me."

He turned away at that. _I don't need your pity. And I don't need to talk to survive._

"Then, do you hate staying here? If dying is better, or being punished at Soul Society is better… You once said you don't have 'forever' and that fighting till the end is…" She was interrupted by a harsh push to her shoulder as he strode pass her to his room.

Before his door slammed shut, she managed to catch his facial expression. It was cold, it was dark. It was a mixture of confusion, anger and feigned indifference at her hurt. He was frowning and his lips were tight. The wild light in his eyes were gone and there remained nothing except that they seemed to tell her,

_Do as you wish._

* * *

HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER AND WOULD BE KIND ENOUGH TO DROP ME A REVIEW.  
I WILL ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL.

PS: This fic, is not on hiatus. It will definitely go on.


	4. Chapter 4

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm back after a long period of hiatus! I am so terribly sorry and it took me a while to regain the drive to write fiction after over a year's absence… I have edited the previous three chapters to improve the flow of the story, but the plot and structure remains the same—if you have the time to revisit previous chapters, please do!

Please also leave me some reviews :) Hope you enjoy this overdue update.

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: BE MORE LIKE YOU AND LESS LIKE ME**

After Urahara's… excruciating treatment process—reinforced kido spells, injection of alien reiatsu into his dysfunctional body and finally a strategic stab with the inventor's benihime (because the panther tried to claw the blonde man's face off)—Grimmjow was fitted into a gigai. Inoue Orihime said now he could "walk among humans". She had left him alone in her strange apartment. "Be good and watch the house, okay," she had said when she put on her shoes. _I am not the protector of your property, trash. _But he had decided not to get angry at her because regrettably, he was in no condition to kill her. He suspected that her words may have been a genuine request instead of a sarcastic comment—_this Inoue woman doesn't even seem normal by human standards. Is she stupid?_ She said many other things before she left, but he had merely stared at her with narrowed eyes, hoping that she would finally understand: most words that came out of her mouth meant little to nothing to him. But he did get the impression that she was going out to meet the others who fought alongside Kurosaki Ichigo. Perhaps a healing job she had to do? Or just a petty battle that she righteously decide to partake in?

_Doesn't matter anyway. At least she's outta my mane for the time being._

So he spent an hour flexing and stretching until he felt… normal… in the meatsuit while she was gone. Looking at his own reflection on the glass sliding door that opens to the balcony area, he examined his attire: Black, white and grey flannel shirt with sleeves folded up to his elbows, and a dark grey pair of jeans. He wasn't sure what to make of the fashion. The hollow mask at his jaw was gone. The only thing that remained authentic to his hollow origins were his neon blue hair, the teal markings under his eyes and his icy irises.

Then, on the balls of his feet, he balanced himself on the balcony railings. Was the panther ready to pounce on an unsuspecting passerby? A targeted shinigami on duty?

Unfortunately for him, no. The sexta was just contemplating the odds of landing gracefully on the ground that is eight floors below as he perched on the balcony. He decided not to risk it. There was only so much humiliation he could take, after all.

Sighing in misery Grimmjow draped himself lazily on a tatami mat—something he was quite used to by now. In fact he was getting used to a lot of human things that the woman uses and the way humans function: sleep, eat, talk, regular travels and chores such as school and cleaning, eat again, talk more, and finally always sleep again because she can become dopey if she stayed up late. Grimmjow especially hated that he was already used to her incessant human talk, even though he did not truly listen.

_To think that I am reduced to trash like this. Trash like her. And be friggin' okay with it._

He was strong before. He could stand up to anyone he wanted to, even if it meant dying. In Hueco Mundo, everybody is born dead. It is the afterlife. Those that 'live' in death are those who fight and devour. There will be no light at the end of the tunnel. The moment he had grown strong enough to have consciousness, to have thought and the backbone that came with it, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez—the Arrancar—knew his one true purpose: he must fight.

To him, being named an Espada just meant getting more fights that put his existence on the line. He wanted that danger. Having the freedom to cease existing while fulfilling his purpose was the only concept of freedom he understood.

Grimmjow mused how he was now forced to eradicate that purpose, that freedom, that life that he knew. His mind's eye travelled the desserts of Hueco Mundo and eventually found the parch of dreadful white. Las Noches. The white dome that sat in the sand formed by millions of hollow dust. Whenever he caught a whiff of that dust he would remember the aftertaste of carcasses.

_F'cking dust made of f'cking weak hollows._

Grimmjow couldn't help but frown at that thought.

_F'cking bat dying off like that._

He imagined a pair of green eyes staring at nothing as their owner lay lifelessly on the dome. He imagined those green pupils losing their light, becoming the colour of dead seaweed. And he imagined a crying Inoue Orihime crouched next to that corpse of a man. He could almost hear her sobs and whimpers.

_Ulquiorra._

In Grimmjow's imagination that corpse looked so very human. That corpse was without black wings, without horns, without that whipping tail and that air of haughtiness that was Ulquiorra Schiffer's resurrection form… Oh so very human.

And the corpse in his invented scenario was in a loose emerald green robe instead of a white uniform, matching the green streaks on the Quatro Espada's face. Those streaks. They were prominent as the man pales from marble white to ashen grey, his body—starting with his limbs—slowly disintegrating into black dust. Those green markings had always looked like tear streaks and now they mirrored the weeping woman's sorrow. But Grimmjow would like to think that those were angry tear streaks.

Grimmjow wished Ulquiorra had died angry, as angry and hateful of the world as Grimmjow himself was. Yet he knew the truth was that Ulquiorra was never, ever, anything like himself. The green-eyed abomination was complacent even in death; Grimmjow could hear the bat's proud voice in his head:

_"__If I live, I live. If I die, I die."_

* * *

**"****I want to be free. To hate, to get angry and to fight freely. If I had to become something other than what I am now, I'll be damn sure to not be like you," Grimmjow snarled at the bat.**

**Ulquiorra was however unfazed. A finger pointed at the panther's throat, he had a cero tingling within the white flesh of his hand. "I suggest you stay low, Jaegerjaquez. We could use more peace and quiet here."**

**"****Peace and quiet? My ass. It is **_**Mother f'king Nature **_**that I fight whoever comes my way… You, included. How is picking a fight with a scrawny shinigami trouble? Arrancars versus shinigami—like I said, Nature."**

**"****We are under strict orders to wait. The fight will come to us. Creating unnecessary casualties does not work to our favour now," the bat countered.**

"It even pains me to say this. You. You! Are. Whipped."

**"****What are you implying?"**

**"****I don't get it, Ulquiorra…-sama," Grimmjow replied sarcastically. "What are you fighting for? If not because you're afraid of Aizen, if not to carry out your so-called duties so that you can protect that trash—trash you are treating like a **_**princess**_**! Then what!"**

**Ulquiorra lowered his hand and stepped away from his snarling colleague. "I have no interest in pursuing this discussion," he narrowed his eyes before he continued, "but for the record, I am not protecting Inoue Orihime. I am holding her prisoner."**

**"****Then you must really like your prisoner, so much so that she likes you too," the panther laughed heartily, recalling his little encounter with the wench when Ulquiorra was away, and how nervous she had been without her guardian. She thrived in Las Noches only because the bat was there for her. Grimmjow knew it. Unlike the bat, he could read basic human emotions. It was obvious that the woman had grown attached.**

**"****How or what she feels about the situation is not my concern. Nor yours. My message to you today is that you are not to leave Hueco Mundo without orders again." Ulquiorra proceeded to walk away. As an afterthought, he added, "It would be a nuisance to have to kill you before the battle with Kurosaki Ichigo commence."**

**"****Just what is your purpose here, Ulquiorra!" Grimmjow yelled in frustration.**

**Ulquiorra turned to look at the panther once again. "I am but an existence. I do not seek to accomplish anything. If I live, I live. If I die, I die. What I do in between, is instinct, which very apparently, differ from yours."**

**With that, Ulquiorra left Grimmjow steaming alone in the hall. The blue panther huffed in annoyance then made an abrupt leave for his own quarters.**

_**To think that you're someone I want to defeat some day, yet you're okay with dying any day, any second of your existence… What made you feel okay to drop dead… even without a good fight?**_

Little did Grimmjow knew back then, that 'princess' Ulquiorra was guarding had the answer to that question. In fact, she _was_ the answer.

And Grimmjow still didn't know that in Ulquiorra's final moment of existence, right before he had faded to join the worthless pile of sand under the ruins of Las Noches, the proud Quatro Espada used the last speckle of strength to reach out to the human girl named Inoue Orihime.

Ulquiorra had died wishing that she would remember him and remember what they had. And there and then he decided: if she decided not to honour that last wish, he would settle for having had a glimpse of her heart. It was okay. It was okay to leave despite his reluctance. It was okay to leave now. It was okay that Ulquiorra Schiffer, was no more.

* * *

The woman came home late. She missed two of her eating times and by the time she showed up, she was only interested in going to bed. Yet she still managed to mutter her usual greetings. He ignored her, absent-mindedly watching the human world outside by the balcony glass door,

"This is a look I could get used to," she commented on his gigai.

He finally turned to look at her. _You're filthy, onna._

"I am used to coming home to you nowadays, but now you remind me of… my brother," she added with a small smile.

_Brother? Having a human appearance makes me your brother? Ridiculous._

She eyed the photo sitting on the pedestal with joss sticks. Grimmjow watched her.

_Your dead brother._

She proceeded to tell him that she had to shower so as to remove the dirt and blood from her hair and skin. The similarly filthy clothes, Grimmjow assumed, will be put in the basket for the time being and then into the washing contraption the next morning.

_What did that stone cold bat see in her?_

For one she didn't look bad. She was probably attractive among humans. Her head of orange hair irked him, because it reminded him of Kurosaki. Apart from that though, her facial features were soft—on her heart-shaped face were gentle grey eyes framed by long lashes, supple skin that had a little pink in it, lips that… _Whatever. As if the bat cared about details like that. Or did he?_

He followed her. She moved sluggishly toward the bathroom.

_Sluggish now, otherwise good posture. She does have long legs. And she's endowed…_

"What's the matter?" She interrupted his train of thoughts.

She had turned a corner and finally entered the bathroom but promptly noticing him behind her, she now looked at him questioningly.

He replied by leaning on the doorframe, still eyeing her curiously.

"I don't suppose you're here to ask how was my day?"

A moment of silence passed.

She stared tiredly at him. Sweeping a lock of hair away from her eyes she decided to say whatever there was to say. "It was horrible. Sado-kun bled a lot. I patched him up. Other than that, I did my best to provide shields when necessary but I… was never enough to fight off the enemy. I'm pretty useless, I guess. And Kurosaki-kun always insists on protecting me, uh, protecting everyone. Just… It's just that I feel especially useless when with him. Rukia, Ishida, Sado-kun… they blossom at his side, you know?"

Grimmjow continued to look at her, observing her. _No, I don't know._

"Well this is awkward," she smiled only to have it quickly turn into a frown. "Something's changed ever since… Las Noches."

_Now we're talking. _He raised a brow crossed his arms, ready to listen.

She caught the glint in his eyes and knew he wanted to hear more. "Ever since… Kurosaki-kun killed Ulquiorra. I don't feel like myself anymore. I am not on the same page with them. I mean, look, I even got you here." She managed to give him another bitter smile.

_How exactly, did Ulquiorra die?_

She was looking down at her feet. Grimmjow watched and wondered if she was reliving the scenes of Ulquiorra's death. With a sudden deep breath she looked up again, eyes glassy. He frowned.

"But I don't suppose you're interested in my life. Well, Grimmjow-san, I need my privacy, if you don't mind."

Yet he didn't budge.

"Please."

She reached for the doorknob. Suppose she could force him out of the way and slam the door shut…

With an outstretched arm he propped the door open, wider than before, while she tugged hopelessly at the doorknob. _That ain't working. _Grimmjow was now sporting a wild grin.

"What do you want?!"

_I want to understand Ulquiorra. I want to understand what he did to you._

"If you want to say something… If you… If you would only let me fix your voice!" She moved towards him and he saw her reach for the hairpins still stuck in her hair.

He gave her a stern scowl. _No, out of the question. And I want to understand what YOU did to him!_

He slapped her hands away from her head, the force sending her a few steps backward. She stumbled but regained balance. Her cheeks were red with fury. "What's your problem, Grimmjow!"

Almost sorry that he struck her—somewhat struck her—he lost his mirth and his face became solemn. _You and Ulquiorra. What exactly happened between you. You. Ulquiorra. That bastard who died._

"And now you're all serious. I don't understand. Can we… Can we just deal with this later?"

_No. Now. It's been bugging me all friggin' day!_

"You're not moving, I see," she sighed, exasperated. "Can't I take a bath and talk to you when I'm clean? We can figure out a way to communicate. Pen and paper, maybe?"

He narrowed his eyes, weighing his options. He didn't like the idea of doing more human-like things. But the idea of never knowing felt dreadful to him at the moment.

"Unless you have a better suggestion. Because the longer you stand here, the longer we won't have anything done. I don't know what you want right now."

He removed his hand from the door. _Pen and paper it is._

"Thank you."

_Get cleaned up and we… communicate when you smell better._

And then the door slammed in his face.

* * *

HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER, PEEPS. R&R!

THE ROMANCE BEGINS.


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